The Voice of Pain
by MidnightDawn999
Summary: One day, the pain would end. One day, he would taste freedom. (The Piotr oneshots no one asked for!)
1. Chapter 1

**This is strange indeed, but I wanted to write it, so... I own nothing! God bless, enjoy!**

It was a cage of body and mind. An entrapment of heart and soul. Each physical hit was a step closer to the pit of hopelessness. Each broken bone one move towards burned out faith. The cold seeped into his bones, sapping the energy he didn't have to give.

His rasping breaths filled the reeking room, his tattoo covered chest rising and falling.

His blond hair was steadily being covered in more blood, the sticky substance oozing from the wound on the back of his head. The scent of blood filled his nostrils, metallic, tangy and familiar.

His eyes closed, head gingerly leaning against the wall. His heartbeat filled his throbbing head, pulsing and pounding, becoming ever so loud.

He'd run from pain in the past, hidden from the anger of his Guardian. But no wall or door could close him off from the agony that infested the very ground in this place. No room could hide him from what followed. It was in the very air, shattering and tearing at him.

And if he ever got out, it would never come to this again. He would stay on top – he wouldn't fall to the cold and the hurt again.

He would fight not to survive, but to be unbroken by the depths of agony.

The door opened, and someone was tossed inside, hitting the floor with a cry of shock. "Piotr!" The name was gasped, almost as an apology. His muscles tensed, and numbly he watched the guards moving inside, eyes locked now on him.

"Piotr—" his 'inmate' repeated, regret in his expression. Briefly, Piotr wondered what his cellmate had told them.

He didn't have long to consider this before he was dragged out.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: It has been a while, I know, I debated updating, thought about it, didn't do it for the longest time until a good friend (RubbleStrength) gave me a prompt and... *Waves hand* It's all in the past now, but thank you RubbleStrength and SherlockAvenger for everything! Here is another Piotr oneshot.**

 **Disclaimer: Blood, gore, dark thoughts and images. Be careful, folks.**

Cold metal trapped him. It pressed against the torn flesh of his wrists, like an unquenched flame begging for something more. Well, there was nothing more to give. The wall felt like ice against his back - he was there, as though a figurine one a grotesque music box, and his song was the mocks of his captors. The air was putrid and rotten - the stench of decaying bodies was everywhere. There was no escape from it, only the distraction of pain - pain made the world fade into the background. The sick song turned to soft taunts. Perhaps in the real world Piotr was still a part of the twisted games of torture - the mocked music box dancer.

But here it was nothing - It was timeless black, consciousness hovering just beyond a door made of spider webs. One that could be so easily torn apart, if only he focused on it. Which was why he balked from it - to rest in his limbo.

Time did pass, the hollow clock did tick, bringing him ever closer. He could see - blurry images, yet the beginning of remerging. It pulled at him, the twisted melody starting all over again. He was on his knees in pools of his own blood, his arms suspended above his head. The position made his breathing sound as one often referred to and known from children's nightmares. Agony dragged down Piotr's chest, he likened it to the skin being peeled away in strips. By the time they were done, he would be as meat listlessly hanging from the roof of a butcher's shop. Death would be a blessing, he was sure of it.

There were some wounds that non could tend to on their own. He dreaded stitching bloody pieces of skin onto his own fleshless body. Was this how it was to end? Even on the darkest nights when his mind had becoming numb, his spirit gone - his body moved, his hands stitched and put back together. Even when his limbs were broken and useless, his mind and spirit fought through the cold.

And he waited, because maybe he only hung onto a thin, poison covered thread - but a single thread can unravel it all.

 **God bless!**


End file.
